For Her
by 39addict101
Summary: Is there even a reason why Ian should keep living? Amain Angst is back! :P
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't _fucking_ fair.

Ian Kabra set with his head in his hands. His amber eyes were shut tight, trying to dodge the pain. The pain was thrown at him with fury, pummeling him from all sides; he could not escape.

It was Natalie again. Every time he tried to picture her, another distinct feature was missing, and he couldn't remember what it was.

Pictures didn't do justice to the girl Natalie had once been. He needed to see her, he needed to touch her skin, smell her lotion, pull her close to him.

His need grew with each day, along with the ache in his chest that was known to him only as the pain monster.

With every heart beat, he was reminding that _his_ heart was still beating, while Natalie's had stopped so long ago, shocked by a cruel machine intended to kill.

It wasn't fair. He wanted to join her, be with her, wherever she had gone.

He remembered with a jolt of pity the names he used to call the Cahills. "Pitiful orphans."

"Stupid Americans."

"Charity Case."

 _Orphan._ The word applied to him too. With Isabel dead, and Vikram up and gone, he was as good as an orphan, if not worse than one, since his father had abandoned him. In his grief he should have been able to turn to Natalie.

But life had been cruel to the boy with the fiery eyes. It had snatched everything he needed-even if he didn't know it-and it had destroyed it, _them_ , the people he cared about, in front of his eyes.

Amy and Dan had each other.

He had no one.

And it wasn't fair.

The bench he was sitting on was cold. The wind was chilly, but Ian didn't care.

The clouds above were a murky gray, the sky a dirty dishwater hue. The sun's light could not penetrate the angry clouds clashing above the busy earth.

But Ian's world was moving too slowly, and it was focusing one thing: his aloneness.

He was often lonely, finding himself saying, "If only Natalie were here."

But it was not to be. Natalie was gone. Isabel was gone. Vikram was as good as gone. And Ian was alone, in a black world of dizzying pain, and terrifying thoughts.

"If only . . ." It was spoken too often.

"I wish . . ." How many times had he caught himself saying those two words?

"Natalie . . ."

"Mummy . . ."

"Father . . ."

The words were bittersweet on his tongue. The precious syllables of Isabel's, Vikram's and Natalie's names only provided comfort for a few seconds before crashing back and reminding Ian of his loss.

It wasn't fair.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that it would be easy for him to go and join Natalie. But there was only one reason he stayed: the girl.

She was always laughing, always smiling, but her smiles showed wisdom beyond her years. Her eyes were full of knowledge and pain.

The latter struck a chord deep inside of Ian, and he wanted to be there for her. He saw her hurt, saw her confusion, saw her utter _helplessness_ as she struggled to lead the most powerful family on earth.

It was her pride. He saw it often, in the way she held herself, how she sent them home even though they begged to stay.

She was afraid of hurting them or killing them because she knew of the pain it would cause those left behind.

She knew they were unafraid of death: they would all meet someone they had lost. Death did not scare them.

She didn't want to cause others pain. She didn't want to cause herself pain.

She had sacrificed herself for them, and they all knew it. But, like the rest, the pain was terrifying.

It ran at them with claws and teeth, biting and scratching, leaving behind deadly wounds worse than the empty hole left by the dead.

Ian didn't want to cause her pain. They all loved each other, even if they refused to admit it.

He didn't want to add to the pain in her jade eyes. He didn't want her to withdraw within herself, as she had done so many times before.

Ian ached to be able to help her, but he knew that in order to help her, he must first help himself.

The sun, sword in hand, cut the last cloud out of the way, and smiled down on Ian. The sun's warm smile seemed to jolt Ian.

He stood up, his back ramrod straight, his hair ruffled, his eyes dull. But there was a spark in them that had not been there before.

If he would not live for himself, he would live for Amy.

It was time for a trip to Attleboro.

* * *

 **So what did you guys think? I was re-reading my first angst, A Thousand Sorrows, and I just felt like I needed to write some more.**

 **Scratch editing! I can just keep write more and add to my editing plate. XD That's me, tho . . . so get used to it.**

 **Don't you guys just get the shivers whenever you think about Amy and Ian, both hurting, both broken, and turning to each other?**

 **Like, seriously! It makes me want to scream, and cry, and I get this fuzzy feeling inside.**

 **Ah, well, that's enough for now.**

 **You know what to do to make me happy, guys.**

 **Review, review, review! It doesn't just make my day. It makes my month. XD**

 **That's it for now, guys. Tttyl!**

 **-Addict**


	2. Chapter 2

It was so dark. Not dark as in "hey, the light is dim" but dark as in "where's _my_ light?". She was drowning in a swirling pool of darkness.

The watery depths reached up for her, dragging her down; they were succeeding. She stared down at the water, the wind whipping at her hair.

The boat churned the water, sending light blue swirls mixing with black water rising from beneath. White frothy bubbles added to the mix and just as suddenly as it had come, it was gone.

But the boat continued on, still churning the water and creating the beautiful blue, black, and white whirlpools.

She didn't notice the sunshine. She didn't hear the laughter of those on the boat with her. She only saw the black water, mixing, staining, scarring the blue water.

She had been the blue water, happy and content, laughing, rolling on the waves of life. And then a boat-troubles, storms,- had come through and stirred up the blackness within her.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around.

Amber eyes stared into hers. "Amy." Ian Kabra's voice was gentle. "Are you ok? You've been standing at the rail the entire ride."

She looked up with a start to see tha they were almost back to the dock. "Oh, I'm _fine._ " She brushed him off, easily, smoothly, a stray hair that had gotten in her eyes.

She didn't know why he had come. There had been a slight tap on the front door, and Ian had been there, and he hadn't left since.

He had been gentle, caring, and she knew there was another reason why he had come, but he had not yet told her why.

He had just been there for her.

She didn't want to admit it, but she had come to depend upon Ian. He was there when she got back from a stressful day, dealing with ornery Cahills determined to have their own way.

It was . . . _nice._

It had been his idea to do a boat ride on the relaxing, calming waters of the nearby lake, and she had agreed-with a little persausion.

She had thought it would be nice to take a break from her Cahillian duties, but instead it had just depressed her further.

Black water was not something she preffered to see.

She was vaguely aware of Ian's hand on her elbow as he escorted her off the dock. "Did you have fun?" He murmured.

Why did he care? Ian Kabra was never one whose main concern had been _fun_.

"Why did you come?" She wheeled on him, jade eyes flashing. Her reaction to his simple question was so unexpected that she dropped her eyes to the ground.

A quick pee at Ian from the ground showed that he looked startled. Amy felt a twinge of guilt, but ignored it. Then he sighed. "I'll tell you over dinner."

* * *  
Ian insisted on making dinner and he shooed Amy up to her room to rest while he worked. She sat on her bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

The small bottle she held in her hands was a great temptation. _Pony. Natalie. Evan._ Her heart cracked at the last name, and she felt her resolve weakening.

They would be strong, if she left. Wouldn't they?

But she knew what it was like to be left behind. She knew what it was like to stand over an open grave, watching the casket be lowered into the ground-the only thing remaining of a friend, loved one, relative, or a combination of all three.

She remembered her anguish, her sorrow, at watching Grace's casket be lowered. She remembered the feeling the wanting to scream as she watched them dump dirt over the coffin.

Could she put the people most important to her through this? Could she do this to them?

She did not fear death, she knew it would be a welcome relief, wherever she went.

Her thumb was on the lid, ready to push it up, when she heard Ian tapping on the door.

She jumped, and shoved the bottle under her pillow just as Ian walked in. "Amy." His eyes were wide and he ran towards her.

Reaching her, he lifted the pillow up and looked at the bottle sadly.

"Amy." His voice cracked. He extended one hand, touching her cheek. His hand was warm against her icy cheek and she didn't move.

"Amy." He said again. "Don't do it."

"Ian! I-I-I can't do it anymore." She grabbed his other hand which was holding the bottle and tried to wrench it away from him.

"Amy." Ian's voice was gentle. "Yes. You can."

"How do you know?" Amy regretted the question. Of course Ian would know! He would know better than she. He had lost his parents, just as she had, but he had also lost his sister.

If Amy lost Dan . . .

 _Dan._ She straightened. What would Dan do if she killed herself? How would he feel? Could he go on without her?

 _I can't do that to him._ "Ian?" She asked. "Will you throw that away for me?"

Ian looked up. "Why? I thought you were going to take them."

"Dan."

One word was all it took. Ian nodded. "Amy, before I came to Attleboro I was struggling-with the same thing." He paused. "You were the reason I'm still alive."

Amy tried not to gasp . . . and failed. Ian cared about her that much?

"I remembered your face when we trying to stop Pierce, you know, when you were ordering us to leave you because you didn't want us to get hurt?"

Amy nodded gravely. "I didn't want to be the reason you were dead-but it was for myself. I didn't want to have to deal with the pain, the sorrow, the screaming relatives that would be left behind."

Ian cocked his head. He sat down on the bed next to her. "Really? Truly?"

Amy nodded. "I can't. Losing my parents, losing Grace . . . it was all too much. And then there was Evan, and Erasmus, and Mr.- I mean, Mac, and . . ." Her voice cracked and she was crying.

Ian tentatively reached out, and put his arms around her. She didn't object, and leaned in closer, put her face on his chest. Snot and tears were smearing on his shirt, but he didn't pull away.

"I know." He said. "I know."

Reaching with one hand, he brushed stray hairs out of the way of her tears. Moving down to her chin, he tilted her face up until she was looking right at him.

"Amy." His voice was full of a tenderness that she didn't recognize. "I love you."

He pressed his lips against hers and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling herself closer. She wanted, no, _needed_ to be as close as possible.

When Ian pulled away for air, she looked up at him. Her eyelashes were flecked with tears, her lips swollen, her heart beating, she looked up and stated, "Ian? I love you."

If she couldn't live for herself, she would do it for Dan, and Ian.

Ian was living for her.

They would live for each other.

* * *

 **I know. I said this was complete. However, I just _had_ to write more. Amian angst is the reason I'm alive because its soo sweet and so cute and so loving and so PERFECT.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **And also thanks the Etincelle, innercornerhighlight and Guest Emry for reviewing.**

 **Etincelle, this chapter was for you. :D**

 **Please, if you have the time, please review again. :DDDDDD**


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